The Delaware

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I had been crying for nights past,
For what seemed like a never-ending
Stream, and the mere
Memory of his slashed body etched in
My mind for an eternity,
Daunting and teasing me in the cruelest of ways
In the coming day I would go to
See the last of his physical time
Above ground, his casket opened for all to see,
It was not fair to me, as if my love was taunting me from the grave.
His eyes were neatly shut, the
Wounds all clean, no blood
Left in his system, the river flowed, crystal liquid, from my eyes.
I, unable to control myself, incidentally
My lips brushed o’er his, and I
Screamed and fell back, my
Black pearls dashing everywhere.
My hands slowly reached o’er my mouth as he
Smiled gently at me, standing in his
Red cushioned encasement, as if it were no more
Than a boat, as if he were crossing the Delaware.
From behind me, shouts sounded and I heard bustling
In the pews as my love swung down to meet my gaze,
His face glowing with an enchanting
Halo only I could detect, one that belonged on an
Angel.
He flung off his suit jacket and draped it about my shoulders,
His scent once again alive on the collar.
He held out his hand, as only a gentleman
Could, and helped me rise to my feet,
Then he wrapped his arms about me and enclosed me in his
Embrace, then he whispered in my ear,
“For it took you long enough,”
And in the background, I heard Mr. Joans, the casket-maker
Grumble,
“For it was all for nothing.”





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